


Worth It

by rayvanfox



Category: Leverage
Genre: Light BDSM, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 11:55:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10639350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayvanfox/pseuds/rayvanfox
Summary: "You’ll do as I say and if you want Hardison to keep sleeping, you’ll be quiet. That’s the game. Got it?”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neverwhere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverwhere/gifts).



Eliot had gotten himself in a situation. His wrists and ankles were chafed from being bound for so long, he was light-headed from holding in his gasps and cries, and the nodes of pain all up and down his body had started to take a toll on his self-control.

But the torture was absolutely worth it if it meant keeping Parker preoccupied while Hardison slept off his five day sugar-induced hacking bender. Their last job had been a disaster, and Parker had spent the first thirteen hours of Hardison’s hibernation alternating cat naps with intensive research one who their next target could be. Once she found one, it was all Eliot could do to get her interested in another favorite past time so she didn’t wake Hardison up and insist they start in on another job immediately. 

And so, Eliot was tied to the balcony railing in Leverage International headquarters, taking the full brunt of Parker’s single-minded focus on his pain. After the kind of shit he’d had to do for their last job, Eliot welcomed the oblivion that Parker took pleasure in giving him, so... win/win, really. 

By now the pain was intense only for short bursts, and it was simply the randomness of which areas were hit that kept the fuzziness at bay and left him in a constant state of anticipation. The part that made it almost impossible to deal with was how often his pleasure centers were lit up, and how unclear it was whether he’d be given any form of release. Parker was a master at getting him worked up then sitting back and watching him suffer, and today looked to be one of those days. It would keep her interested for longer — which alternately ensured Hardison could sleep longer — but meant Eliot would be too wrung out and grumpy for anything, especially work, later on. 

Worth it, though.

A soft, throaty whimper escaped his lips despite his earlier promise of silence. Parker’s mouth twitched in a wicked smile, all the more so for being indifferent to his particular brand of suffering. His whimper almost turned to a moan as she reached for him, but he was too optimistic thinking she’d provide a stroke of pleasure instead of more pain. Mercilessly, she flicked the binder clip attached to his inner thigh hard enough for it to fly off, leaving a searing explosion of pain in its wake. 

Eliot gasped, indulging in the ability to both access and reveal his pain (something he hadn’t allowed himself to do in decades) and knowing that small amount of vulnerability was safe in Parker’s hands. Her eyes were wide with delight and she raised her hand to repeat the tiny torture on the other leg when they were both caught by surprise.

Hardison cleared his throat.

Parker grinned at him like a madwoman and Eliot blushed warmly.

“Y’all really know how to welcome a fella back to consciousness, that’s for damn sure.” The soft smile on Hardison’s face was crowned with a dark twinkle in his eyes, and Eliot drew in a slow, deep breath. Either things were going to climax very quickly or they were going to go on for ages. 

“Took you long enough,” Parker said, toying with one of the binder clips near Eliot’s left knee. 

“How long you been at this game?” Hardison said, moving closer, most likely to assess Eliot’s state of mind. Or body. Or both. 

“Not long, only a couple hours,” Eliot growled. Hardison’s fingers were an inch away from the binder clip on his right nipple, and Eliot was trying to prepare for the onslaught of sensation.

Hardison’s hand froze and he looked from one of them to the other. “Seriously? Jesus, Eliot.”

“What?” He meant to say it without rancor, but he was stretched so thin at this point, he wasn’t sure he succeeded.

But Hardison was looking at Parker. “You know he’s not actually Superman, right? There’s a breaking point underneath all that bluster.”

“I know,” she said flippantly, her sharp eyes focused on Eliot’s chest, probably to monitor his breathing. “But he’s really good at pushing it farther away when I ask him to.”

“Baby, someday he’s gonna hit his wall.” Hardison seemed to want to rest his hand on some part of Eliot that wasn’t tied down or pinched or sporting red marks, but the only place was his head. So that’s how Eliot ended up rolling his eyes hard as Hardison awkwardly patted his hair. 

“Look. I know what I’m doing. Eliot lets me hurt him because I like it, but also because he likes it, as long as I also throw in some pleasure once in a while. If I get the ratio right, he’ll let me go on for hours and not hit a wall. I’d know if he was close to that, and I’m telling you, he’s not. He’s pushed it farther back for me because, look.” When Hardison didn’t move any closer, she motioned him to her side, then pointed between Eliot’s legs. “These clips are close enough to his junk that they rub up against it when I’m  _ not looking _ .” Her last words were in invisible scare quotes. 

“That’s the worst part, Parker,” Eliot gritted through his teeth, his breath short, muscles twitching. 

“It’s the part you like the best, though,” she said with such authority Eliot’s head spun. “I’m still trying to decide if it’s better to give you the release you say you want at the end, or if you’d rather suffer through the anti-climax, be told how well you did, then curl up at my feet and get petted. I’m starting to think it’s the latter, but I’m not sure.” 

Eliot was speechless. 

Hardison was staring in disbelief. “You let her  _ deny _ you?  _ You,  _ Eliot Spencer, let someone get you worked up then leave you all blue-balled?”

“Not  _ someone.  _ Parker!” Eliot started to twist his wrists, trying to loosen the bonds so he could pull free.

Parker held up her hand and he stilled again. He knew it was useless to fight against her knots, but of course when he got upset she had to remind him. 

Hardison looked from one to the other of them with a shocked expression. “Fuck, y’all are on some next level shit.”

“Join us, then,” Parker said, in her uniquely Parker way that somehow it didn’t sound like the creepiest thing you’ve ever heard. Or maybe it did, and they’d just gotten used to her and didn’t notice. 

Either way, Hardison didn’t hesitate when she began to show him exactly how Eliot liked to be touched when he was this lit up, how to bring him to the edge, then back off long enough for her to flick more of the binder clips off, over and over until he was so exhausted he wasn’t sure he wanted to climax at all. 

And then she showed Hardison how to make Eliot come untouched, simply by praising him for how well he handled being denied.

It was a good night.

They all slept in a puppy pile in the loft and started in on their next job in the morning, refreshed and ready to go steal the republican party. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a commission by my darling nevs for a 1000 word fic.   
> I hope she feels as though she got her $10 worth. <3
> 
> (if you want to commission me, hit up my askbox - zooeyscigar.tumblr.com)


End file.
